


all the faults you've left behind

by Lunarwolfik



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-09
Updated: 2011-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-14 14:26:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/150221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarwolfik/pseuds/Lunarwolfik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She smirked to herself, pleased.  An inhibition curse would certainly cause Arthur to make a fool of himself (well, more than usual), definitely get himself disinherited, and it would leave her the most fit (and most attractive) heir to the throne.</p><p>It was <i>perfect</i>.</p><p>It was also going to go horribly wrong, but she didn’t know that just yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all the faults you've left behind

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Draco_Stalker](http://draco_stalker.livejournal.com/) for the [Merry_Merthur ficathon](http://inkwell.inkubation.net/merrymerthur.html). Title from the "The Cave" by Mumford & Sons.

When Morgana first found the spell, she was sure it would solve everything. It took a few hours combing through Camelot’s musty archives and studiously checking over her shoulder for that snooping Geoffrey, but she eventually found the perfect curse. It didn’t take too many ingredients: some arrowroot and hyacinth, a dash of toad slime and fox blood. Some of Arthur’s hair and a manikin and it was complete.

She smirked to herself, pleased. An inhibition curse would certainly cause Arthur to make a fool of himself (well, more than usual), definitely get himself disinherited, and it would leave her the most fit (and most attractive) heir to the throne.

It was _perfect_.

It was also going to go horribly wrong, but she didn’t know that just yet.

***

Meanwhile, Arthur was rather strenuously attempting to beat his poor knights into the ground during training, ringing blow after blow against the dull metal of Leon’s armor as his copper colored curls spilled out beneath the helm’s dented brow.

“Parry. Feint. Left strike. Watch your footwork man!” Arthur cried sternly, connecting a more than glancing blow on Leon’s vambraces, the clash scuffing its carved surface.

Merlin watched offhandedly, polishing swordbelts and scrubbing at old boots, grumbling to himself about prattish princes and ungrateful gits. He had just saved Arthur’s life (again!) and instead of receiving even the faintest bit of praise, he was stuck with grimy nails and cracked knuckles. Even if Arthur didn’t know exactly what he’d done at the castle, or how the old man had actually been waiting for him and not the prince, well, he could have at least been more appreciative of his more overt help. Merlin _had_ traveled across barren lands and faced down monsters, but no, instead he was still same ol’servant Merlin.

He sighed to himself, shaking his head. Arthur had better become the best king ever, he thought dejectedly.

Merlin looked up just in time to see a flash of silvery green light hover over Arthur as he stumbled unexpectedly, just enough to be in the way of Leon’s parry. “Arthur!” Merlin called out, unthinkingly, watching in slow motion as Leon’s sword arched toward Arthur’s exposed side, feeling familiar panic skittering across his nerves.

The light became brighter, sinister and cloying. Merlin blinked once and the slow motion got slower. Twice and everything stopped except the light, which only got brighter and brighter, and before he knew it, the light exploded outward with a sound like shattered glass.

Something twisted in Merlin’s stomach and he gasped involuntarily as the light passed over him. He looked over his shoulder and saw it sweeping along the streets of Camelot, but nothing changed in its wake. Merlin raked a hand through his hair, staring at the frozen scene in front of him.

Nothing _looked_ different, but there was something in the air. The taste of metal lingered at the back of his throat and an acrid smell burned his nose as he drew closer to where Arthur was frozen mid-mishap. Arthur’s eyes were only slightly widened; clearly he had only just realized he was in trouble. Leon looked a little panicked, his wrist just beginning to twist in order to try to readjust the strike, but he clearly already knew it was too little, too late.

Merlin sighed again. It was a wonder that Arthur had survived this long without a little magical guidance; he attracted trouble like a lighting rod.

He didn’t see anything amiss and whatever magic that light had been up to, Merlin couldn’t divine it. Clearly this was a job for Gaius.

Merlin moved Arthur to the left a few inches and tilted Leon’s wrist a bit more. Studying his work, he nodded in satisfaction. Arthur would get a light bruise, but he wouldn’t get painfully sliced.

He walked back to where he’d been polishing and sat back down on the bench. Focusing on his breathing, he let the world slip back into its rightful place. He felt time tremble and start up again, the pressing force of his own spell crackling against his skin like a delicate eggshell as the world caught back up with a calamitous crescendo.

Leon’s blade glanced off Arthur’s shoulder; Arthur caught himself from falling and not so smoothly pivoted to his left. Merlin chuckled at Arthur’s almost faceplant and the world went on like normal.

Or at least that’s what Merlin expected.

What he didn’t expect was for Leon to catch Arthur’s wrist as he spun, using the momentum to his advantage and pulling Arthur towards him, twirling him with ease- wait, _twirling him_?

“Shall we dance?” Leon asked politely, but he didn’t wait for an answer before he placed his other hand at Arthur’s waist and pushed him to the left in a familiar staccato rhythm. Arthur’s flailing was to no avail really and Leon twirled him again with a flourish and dip that would make a maiden blush. Merlin felt heat flush across his face, a mixture of jealousy and confusion warring in his head.

“What the hell are you doing, Leon?” Arthur asked, voice edgy but body surprisingly compliant now that he’d gotten the rhythm.

“I thought it would be obvious, sire. Dancing,” Leon replied matter-of-factly, switching steps and turning in the opposite direction. Merlin’s not sure, but if he had to guess he’d say it looked like Leon was smirking as well.

“Well…stop it,” Arthur said after a moment, still keeping in time with Leon’s moves.

“I-yes, of course. I’m sorry, sire,” Leon replied, stopping mid-step, awkwardly caught between another twirl and a formal bow. “I don’t know what came over me,” he continued, looking confused and uncertain.

“Clearly I gave you a few too many good blows on the head and not other places like I should have,” Arthur replied smoothly, his gaze flicking unsubtly to Leon’s crotch and-Merlin coughed, hard.

Heading to Arthur, he could see that he and Leon were both floundering. If Merlin had ever wanted to see Arthur look like a fish out of water, than this was it.

“I mean-I-uh-” he tried to backpedal, but it really was no use at this point. Merlin looked between them uncertainly.

“Your boots are clean,” Merlin finally said, striving to fill up the stifling awkwardness that had fallen.

“It took you long enough Merlin, there weren’t that many,” Arthur replied, looking like the familiarity of scolding Merlin was a lifeline. Merlin wasn’t sure whether to laugh or ask questions. “It’s getting late anyway and we’ve certainly practiced long enough, longer than I would usually practice if Leon weren’t so-”

“Okay, time to go, sire!” Merlin interjected a little too loudly and a little too chipper. Something weird was definitely going on and questions were certainly in order.

Arthur nodded in approval and Leon bowed a little too crisply at their exit. Arthur took the castle steps two at a time and walked a little quicker than normal.

“Nice dance moves,” Merlin said when they were out of earshot and ensconced in a clear corridor, unable to resist. Arthur cuffed him.

“Shut up.”

“I never knew you could be that graceful. In armor even!” He continued laughingly, a light edginess barely creeping into his voice. He wasn’t jealous, no, of course not.

“I said shut up, Merlin. If you value your tongue, and I know I do, then you’ll stop it wagging.”

Merlin only stumbled a little.

“I’m sorry, what?” He asked, caught between hope and confusion.

“It was nothing, I’m clearly suffering from sunstroke or something,” Arthur replied, shaking his head and looking a little hapless.

“You’ve never gotten sunstroke before and you’ve practiced in way hotter temperatures.”

“Yes, well, you’ve never looked so ravishing before either.”

This time Merlin stumbled quite a bit more. He stopped abruptly, actually.

“ _What_?”

But before he could ask any more questions or fully process just what the hell was going on, Arthur grabbed his collar and shoved him down a secluded side passage. Merlin’s back scraped against the rough stone and he was only able to register it dimly as Arthur’s body was very much in his personal space very quickly. Arthur’s armor was sun-warmed, but it faded fast as it pressed coolly against Merlin’s exposed arms. Arthur’s lips crashing against his was even more surprising, the kiss walking a thin edge between want and need and very demanding. His lips were a bit chapped and his tongue was not so much gently plying as it was pillaging Merlin’s mouth. It was rough, gloriously rough, and only a little off-kilter before they found their groove. Arthur eased up a little and Merlin pushed back more as his brain finally caught up.

It was wet and sloppy and nothing like Merlin had ever expected. Arthur tasted a bit like stale wine and something else, something ethereal and crisp. When Arthur finally pulled back, Merlin’s chest was tight, a coiled spring of desire. Arthur rested his forehead against Merlin’s, breathing uneven, mingling with Merlin’s in a way that made his heart ache.

If Merlin were honest, he’d been thinking about kissing Arthur for ages. But he’d never thought Arthur would return it. And he definitely never thought Arthur would kiss him first. Merlin pulled back a little, wanting to see, wanting to remember. He leaned his head against the stonewall and Arthur’s face went from slightly blurred and too close to just close enough.

He also looked panicked. And more than a little scared.

“Merlin, something is very _very_ wrong.”

Merlin felt something inside of him break a little, a clench and a tug. Arthur didn’t want-

Arthur didn’t know what he was doing and he clearly didn’t mean for that to happen. Arthur took a step back, body tensed like a live wire, and then quickly walked away.

He didn’t look back.

Hurt and rejection clenched his chest and he tried to remember how to breathe. If Merlin hadn’t already been leaning against the wall, he was pretty sure his knees would have given out at that point.

***

It only got weirder from there. After some deep breathes and attempts to reassemble himself into something passing as composed, Merlin went to find Gaius.

“Gaius, we have a problem. Something weird is going on, there was this light…” he trailed off after opening the door to reveal a Gaius half-covered in flour and surrounded by dozens of floating trays full to the brim with _pastries_. Almond tarts, apple pies, treacle pudding, five flavors of custard, and macaroons. Macaroons everywhere.

“Ah, Merlin, come here. You’ve got to try this Jalousie, it’s French you know. French and delicious!” Gaius said jovially, munching on a flakey crusted pastry with abandon.

Merlin looked at him dubiously.

“Gaius, what’s going on? Did you make these?” Merlin asked cautiously and very confused.

“Yes of course. You should have some, they really are fantastic. You know I’ve always wanted to bake and today, well, today seemed like a fine day to get started.” He smiled and looked happier than Merlin could remember him being in awhile.

He walked over and put his hand on Gaius’ forehead. Nope, no fever.

“You’re not possessed by some goblin again are you? Some sort of pastry goblin?”

“Good heavens, no. What, a man can’t make a few baked goods?” Gaius responded defensively, sliding away from Merlin’s hand and grabbing a macaroon.

“Okay, well, what’s with the floating?” Merlin continued, pressing for information and something like understanding. This was weird.

“I shouldn’t have to hide my magic just because that pig-headed king can’t get over himself. And you’re one to talk, Merlin,” Gaius added accusingly. Which was true, but still.

“Gaius, something very weird is going on. While Arthur was training a few minutes ago, this flash of white-green light hovered around him. And then it just…expanded. And then Leon tried to dance with Arthur and he-” Merlin coughed, catching himself. That was something Gaius certainly didn’t need know.

“Well, he’s been different. And you’re _baking_.”

Gaius gazed back at him steadily; face unreadable except for a stray eyebrow inching towards his hairline. He hummed and munched on his macaroon.

“That does sound like trouble,” he finally said gravely. “Dancing knights, that’s loads of trouble,” he added with a hint of a smile, followed by a snicker that rolled into full-out laughter.

Merlin threw his hands up in exasperation. “That’s not what I meant!”

But before he could continue, the door swung open with a rush and a push of air, harried steps following it. A sharp clang followed as the floating pans fell to the ground, spilling their pastry-laden contents _everywhere_. Gwen came rushing in, looking caught between confusion and bemusement.

“Merlin, you’ve got to see this!” she said, laughing delicately, her eyes dancing. She paused though, when she saw the floor covered in jam tarts and apple pies. “What’s with the pastries?” She asked, picking her way through the mess.

“Gaius decided to bake,” Merlin replied, nodding at a now-crestfallen Gaius who was attempting to save a macaroon from tumbling to the floor after its abrupt collision with the table. Gwen took one look at Gaius and burst in to full-bodied laughter, clutching Merlin’s sleeve for support.

“Gaius, you look ridiculous!” she managed to say between her giggles.

“He does, doesn’t he? Like he’s gone a few rounds with a bag of flour, and the flour won,” Merlin added lightly, Gwen’s lighthearted smile becoming infectious.

“Come on, there’s something even funnier happening in the throne room,” Gwen said after finally composing herself, while Gaius patently ignored them in favor of gathering as many unsullied pastries as he could.

“Is it some dancing knights?” Gaius called out between bites of strawberry shortcake. Gwen’s eyebrows knit together prettily in confusion, but she shook her head.

“No, no, it’s better.”

***

It was certainly more entertaining than a few dancing knights.

Uther was…well, he was singing. Singing _badly_ with a full band behind him strumming away at some fiddles and a harp. He was giving a show in the middle of the throne room, while the lords and ladies of the court were either drinking merrily, kissing rakishly, or dancing overly flirtatious two-steps. The room was very loud and quite close to what Merlin thought a bacchanalia would look like.

He stepped back out with Gwen, shutting the doors and leaning against them.

“It’s been like that since this morning. Uther was talking with a few generals about raising taxes and then he just called for the court band and started bellowing away,” Gwen said smilingly. “You missed the love ballad to Lady Catherine. He rhymed troll with bowl,” she added earnestly.

Merlin was unable to help himself, he burst into helpless laughter. Gwen followed suit and they’d soon collapsed to the floor, a pile of giggles and imitations of Uther’s dreadful poetics.

Gwen leaned happily against him, finally reaching a level of self-control. She sighed contentedly and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“You’re really the best friend a girl could have, Merlin. Cute too,” Gwen said with candor and not even the hint of a blush.

“Um, thanks,” Merlin said, at a loss for words and a little flabbergasted.

“Not as cute as Arthur though. And definitely not as gorgeous as Morgana. She’s got cheekbones that could cut steel. And those lips!” Gwen continued as if Merlin hadn’t interrupted.

Gwen stopped then and held her hand up to her mouth, as if she could retroactively stop the words from spilling out. She got up with a flourish of skirts and a blazing blush. Merlin could only blink stupidly at her.

“I’ve got to go,” she bit out curtly before dashing off. Merlin sighed and got the creeping sensation of déjà vu along his spine, mixed with a fair amount of dread and uncertainty.

“What, is this kiss Merlin and then run off like you forgot the kettle was on day?” he grumbled to himself before getting up. Gaius clearly wasn’t going to be any help and whatever was going had gotten the whole castle in an uproar. He sighed the sigh of the thankless and started towards the library.

***

It was when Morgana ran in on Uther’s third rendition of _Greensleeves_ that she realized her spell had gone slightly awry.

Instead of just Arthur, the spell had spread, touched every nook and cranny of Camelot’s castle and the grounds beyond. She called Morgause quickly, who arrived even quicker, looking like the dark-haired flower merchant that strolled along the marketplace. Her eyes were bright and darkly smoldering, a catlike smile that could only be hers giving away the illusion. Morgana opened the doors to the throne room and gestured helplessly at the chaos. Uther was attempting to do a handstand, clearly wanting to make his singing show a bit more theatrical.

“The spell has gone slightly awry,” Morgana said diplomatically, clenching her fists in exasperation.

“I’d say this is more than a little awry, dear sister. But no matter, this can still be used to our advantage,” Morgause replied, smile tinged with genuine amusement at Uther’s complete lack of inhibitions.

“This might even be better.”

***

When Merlin got to the library, he prayed he didn’t find any more surprises. He’d already passed two guards playing hopscotch, one spectacularly drunk, and more than a few simply missing from their posts. He sighed with relief when all he found was Geoffrey merrily reading a book and looking unperturbed. He didn’t even glance up when Merlin walked by, which was odd but Merlin wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

He headed to the back, figuring the best place to start would be the stacks on mischievous creatures. Perhaps one had the ability to make people go a little bit crazy?

Instead, he found Arthur sitting cross-legged in the aisle, eyes closed and humming to himself, hands clenched against his knees. He’d changed out of his armor and was wearing the light red shirt that Merlin knew was the softest one he owned (and was secretly his favorite).

Arthur’s eyes snapped open when Merlin cleared his throat.

“Oh, bloody hell.”

Merlin wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. He was pretty sure asking Arthur why he kissed him would be more than a little awkward.

Arthur’s fingers tensed and he clenched his knees a bit tighter, like he was trying to stop himself from something. He let out a low growl and before Merlin knew it, he’d stood up in one fluid motion, crowded into Merlin’s space again, and had him pressed against a shelf full of musty books.

“I thought for sure you didn’t read,” Arthur muttered, and Merlin had about a split second to respond dejectedly but it was swallowed up by another kiss.

Arthur was just as rough as last time, but less unbalanced, less reckless. He kissed like he was trying to drink Merlin in, trying to figure him out, searching for something indefinable. His lips were softer this time, pliant, and Merlin had enough wits to kiss back now that he’d gotten the shock out of his system. Arthur ran a hand through Merlin’s hair, tugged lightly, and the kiss deepened, sending a thrill of pleasure to the tips of Merlin’s toes.

Arthur’s body closed what little the distance was left between them expertly, pinning him more thoroughly to the bookcase and kicking Merlin’s legs a little bit apart to fit better into the warm contours of his frame. He could feel the press of Arthur’s cock against his thigh, hard and wanting through the fabric, and Merlin’s hips twitched in response, pushing against Arthur’s involuntarily. There was a moment of glorious friction and then Arthur was shoving a hand down Merlin’s pants before he knew what was going on. He kissed down Merlin’s neck, biting and nipping, breath hot and stubble scrapping.

“I thought I wouldn’t find you here,” he said huskily against Merlin’s skin, calloused hand stroking Merlin’s cock at a swift pace. Merlin had to suppress a groan, body arching into Arthur’s touch.

Arthur kissed along Merlin’s collarbone, bit hard enough to leave a bruise, laving the spot with tongue and teeth.

“It’s not proper, I know. But I’ve wanted this for so long and now, I can’t-I can’t help myself, Merlin,” Arthur said, his voice hitching a little on Merlin’s name. And that’s when Merlin finally understood.

He stopped instantly, frozen as comprehension dawned. He pushed Arthur away then, disgusted with himself even though he’d wanted this for so very long too. But not like this, never like this.

“I-I know what’s happened,” Merlin said gruffly, voice rough. He could feel panic rising in the back of his throat.

“I can fix it. I can fix everything.”

***

In the end, the spell was incredibly easy to break. Merlin sent Arthur away, a feat in and of itself, especially since shoving and manhandling him away was the last thing Merlin wanted to do. But he wasn’t going to take advantage of him, not like that, not with his wits frayed and fearful confusion chasing the heels of every kiss.

After that, all Merlin had to do was focus, his magic coming forth as easy as breathing, the wellspring of power itching beneath his skin. It turned, twisted in the tidal forces of the magic that was coating every inch of the city. Merlin just had to find out who cast it, follow it to its source, and force them to burn the effigy that held Arthur under sway. If he could break the curse on Arthur, then the rest of the city should follow suit.

He exhaled, pooling his magic outward, extending his sight and following the green lay lines of the spell out from the training grounds, into the castle, and straight to Morgana’s chamber.

Of course it was Morgana.

***

A little sneaking, a little breaking in, and he’d gotten into Morgana’s chamber in no time. Muttering a small spell, he found the effigy easily enough beneath her pillow. It was rough-hewn leather filled with straw, some of Arthur’s hair wrapped around the limbs. Fire leapt into Merlin’s hand, the magic springing forth obediently, a leashed dog given free reign. Golden flames danced in his palm like overly energetic fireflies.

The effigy caught quickly, smoldering and crackling, wisps of white and green light emanating with the flames. Merlin threw it into the fireplace with disgust. If that didn’t do it, he didn’t know what would.

***

He knew things had changed the minute he went into the throne room and saw a chagrined Uther smoothing his shirt as servants reorganized the room. The court dignitaries were nowhere to be found, having been sent away most likely, and a few of the guards were stifling hiccups from intoxication but looking sharply focused on their jobs.

Merlin ducked out before Uther could make him a scapegoat or something, and headed to check on Gaius in hopes that his cooking urges had passed.

Instead, he found Arthur awkwardly leaning against the door, body stiff and out of place, as if he was having a hard time refraining from bolting.

“Arthur…” Merlin trailed off, unsure what to say. Unsure if there was anything he _could_ say. “It was a spell,” he finally said, settling on something like the truth.

“A spell?” Arthur replied, eyebrow raised questioningly.

“Yeah, a spell. It made everyone a little crazy, controlled us, made us do things we wouldn’t. Your father actually sang a duet with Lord Drustan,” Merlin continued, trying for lighthearted but failing miserably.

“So someone was controlling everyone. Controlling...” Arthur gestured between them, as if he couldn’t bring himself to say what had happened. Merlin couldn’t read his face, the embarrassment giving way to decorum and political niceties.

Merlin nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Not trusting himself to not blurt out that it actually just let people do what they secretly wanted to do all along. Not trusting himself to not say that if Arthur wanted him, he would gladly have him.

Arthur nodded curtly.

“Okay then,” he said, voice rough and Merlin’s thoughts flickered, filled with Arthur saying his name like that.

“Okay then,” he replied, tongue thick in his mouth, unable to think of anything else to say. Arthur walked past him, shoulder brushing against Merlin’s involuntarily and Merlin’s breath hitched. He couldn’t help it, the feel of Arthur’s fingers ghosting across his skin and the touch of his lips calling a flush to Merlin’s cheeks.

Arthur hesitated the briefest of moments, almost as if-

But then he kept walking and disappeared down the hall. Merlin felt fear and uncertainty tighten in his chest again and let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. Wasn’t right. But all he could hear was Arthur’s broken lost voice, uncertain and confused, and so very hurt. _I can’t help myself_.

Merlin closed his eyes, rubbed his forehead as the memories flickered behind his eyelids. If he focused, he could still taste the sweat of Arthur’s skin on his lips.

Merlin shook his head, knowing that things were never going to be the same.


End file.
